


L'Affaire Se Corse

by JessicaJones



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaJones/pseuds/JessicaJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elf was clearly an Orlesian spy, Anora thought, and so she hired her straight away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Affaire Se Corse

**Author's Note:**

> _l’affaire se corse_ translates roughly as, “the plot thickens." This was written for the "Women of Dragon Age" challenge on Livejournal, and was beta'd by the lovely and talented Mutive.

* * *

-o-

The girl who would be queen leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her desk as she considered the woman sitting opposite her. The elf was polite and well-groomed, the perfect image of a lady’s handmaiden— too perfect, Anora thought. With her smooth olive skin and clear dark eyes, she didn’t look nearly bedraggled enough to have come up from the alienage. Anora wondered if she had any hidden boils.

The elf bowed her head. “Zhank you for meeting with me, your Grace,” she began. “I have heerd your father is seeking a new maid staff, and I would very much like to serve at zhe Mac Tir estate.”

The accent startled her. “You’re...” Anora managed not to gasp. “You’re _Orlesian_.” 

The elf nodded, and Anora sat back. Her father had a great many things to say about Orlesians. Orlesians had killed his father and raped his mother. They had pillaged this country and oppressed her people. Loghain said that they were all devious, but also lazy, that they drank too much wine and greatly enjoyed the sound of their own voices, which were all nasal. He said that all Orlesians hid behinds masks, even the ones that didn’t, and that you couldn’t trust any of them.

Anora thought he might be exaggerating, a little. Orlesians could not be all alike, but there was one thing that united them, she thought, and that was an abiding hatred of _him_. Anora could think of only one reason why a pretty Orlesian girl might show up at the Hero of River Dane’s doorstep, fetching for work.

Clearly, this elf was a bard.

At this realization Anora felt a rush of excitement, and a brief fear for her life, but she pushed through it. She was not a child, she was seventeen, and everyone said she was both clever and brave. Her brow furrowed. She would find out why this bard was here.

Anora shuffled through the papers in her hand to find the bard’s apparent alias. She looked up. “Erlina, is it?” The elf nodded, and Anora set the papers aside. “Tell me, Erlina. Why would an Orlesian want to work for Loghain Mac Tir?”

Erlina squirmed uncomfortably. She was a rather inexperienced spy, Anora thought, or else she was playing a more complicated role than was yet understood. “I have not leeved in Orlais for some time,” she replied, with affected meekness. “And everyone in zhe alienage wants to work for zhe Teyrn. Zhey say he eez a good master.”

“I see.” That much might be true, at least... if by ‘good master’ one meant ‘absent and undemanding.’ Her mother had always been in charge of their holdings, but since Celia’s death things had gone rather downhill. Now that Anora was of age, she intended to remedy this oversight, at least at the Denerim estate. It was why she had convinced her father to let her hire new servants in the first place.

“You should know there will be some changes around here,” Anora said. “You will be working for me, not my father.”

“Ah. Well, zhat is good also. I am sure to work for my lady eez preferable to working for, well...” Erlina swallowed. “Zhey say frightening zhings about some of zhe other lords.”

“Who says these things?” Anora asked, arching a suspicious brow. “Orlesians? The Chevaliers? _Celene?_ ”

“What? No, zhe other elves, of course.” Erlina blanched, and seemed even more flustered. “I’ve... I’ve never spoken with zhe Empress, my lady. I am but a lowly servant.”

“An _Orlesian_ servant,” Anora noted.

“Yes, I am from Orlais. It eez a very big country.” Erlina frowned. “We don’t all know each other, your Grace.”

“Yes, I know that. Very funny.” Anora smiled, but she was now convinced: Erlina’s first reaction had given her away. So Celene herself had sent a bard to try and spy on them. Anora steepled her fingers together. It was almost flattering that the new Empress considered her family worthy of such attention.

“I have very good references from Bann Ceorlic,” Erlina continued. She produced a sheaf of vellum from her satchel. “I have zhem right here.”

Anora took the papers from the elf and looked them over. The reviews were glowing, of course, but one could never trust Ceorlic. She set the references aside with the other papers.

The elf sat in her chair, fidgeting a little. Anora could easily send her away, but she realized that if this bard did not succeed in her mission, Celene would just send another. Perhaps a less obvious one, next time, and Anora might not recognize her. Better the demon you know, she thought. 

And anyway, Anora thought having a bard around might be interesting. It was rather dull in Denerim, especially when her father was away on some errand for the state, which was often. Anora was meant to be queen, eventually, but until Maric got on with it, she really didn’t have very much to do. She was not very challenged by her studies, and she was getting rather bored of needlework. A game of intrigue might be a lark.

“Very well, Erlina.” She rose and extended a hand across her desk. “Congratulations. You may start in the morning.”

“You mean, I am hired?” Erlina seemed genuinely surprised. Anora nodded, and Erlina stood quickly and clasped her hand, smiling broadly. “I won’t disappoint you, my lady!”

“Oh, I am sure that you won’t,” Anora said, and she smiled again. If anyone was to be disappointed, it would be Celene. 

And maybe the bard herself, she allowed. And that last girl she’d interviewed, who’d seemed rather desperate; Anora wasn’t going to hire her. But, mostly Celene. Celene would be _very_ disappointed.

-o-

Anora roused Erlina at the break of dawn and put her to work. Erlina did not complain. She was much more diligent than Anora might have expected from an Orlesian, or an elf, but then maybe bards were different. She showed Erlina where the laundry was, and the kitchen, and the dusters and buckets and mops, and other things that were generally beneath both of them.

“I admit, I am surprised and honored zhat you are training me yourself,” Erlina said pleasantly. She dragged a mop across the floor, leaving a trail of suds. “Do you always take such a personal interest in your servants?”

Anora crossed her arms. “Yes.” She leaned against a table, trying to look casual, and began her interrogation. “So, where are you from? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Why did you emigrate to Ferelden? Are you married? How long have you lived here?”

Erlina paused in her chores. “Zhat is a lot of questions,” she said. Anora cocked a brow, and after a moment Erlina shrugged. “Well, I was born in Ghislain,” she said. “It iz a small hamlet on zhe silk road.” Erlina lifted a small chair and swept beneath it. “When I was fourteen, my mother arranged a marriage for me, but I deed not want to be married. I fled to Denerim, and I have leeved here ever since.” Erlina smiled. “Zhat was zhree years ago. I am still liking your country very much.”

“I see.” It was a very romantic, if somewhat implausible, cover story. “What was wrong with him?” she prodded. “This man you were to wed.” Allegedly. “Was he very cruel? Ugly? Too old?”

Erlina shook her head. “Oh no, he was good enough, I suppose, for a man I did not choose. But I deed not want to marry any man. I wanted a life zhat was my own.”

Anora bit her lip. The bard’s story had some truth in it. “Ah.” She lowered her hands and looked away. “Well, I can see where that might be appealing.”

Erlina’s eyes went wide. “Forgeeve me,” she said. “I forget that my lady eez also promised to someone.” She looked at Anora. “Do you not like zhe prince?”

“Oh.” The question startled her, and Anora let out a laugh. No one had ever actually asked her that before. “It’s not that I don’t _like_ him,” she said quickly. “Cailan and I grew up together, you know. He’s like a brother to me. I love him.” Anora wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t mean I want to marry him.”

“Ah, how awkward.” The elf patted her shoulder in sympathy. “Does he feel zhe same way?”

“Who knows.” Anora exhaled. “Cailan doesn’t put very much thought into these things. Barely fifteen, and he’s already trying his charms on every chambermaid and scullery girl in Denerim.” She shuddered. “Blech. Men are disgusting.”

Erlina smiled gently. “But you will be queen when you are married,” she said. “Zhat iz some compensation, no?”

Anora nodded. “Yes, it is, and when I am queen you can be sure that...” Erlina was watching her with some interest, and Anora stopped short. She had forgotten for a moment with whom she was speaking. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are a clever one, aren’t you?”

“A clever what?” Erlina asked. She blinked innocently.

But Anora was not fooled. She was not usually one to share such private thoughts. This bard was cunning, using her pleasant nature and disarming smile to get closer to her. Erlina tilted her head, and Anora pursed her lips. She would have to watch her more closely, she decided. 

“Erlina, we’ve only just met but I rather enjoy your company,” Anora declared. “I think you are wasted in this drudgery. From now on you shall be my personal attendant.”

The elf was struck speechless. After a moment she smiled and then bowed her head. “Eet would be my pleasure, my lady,” she said. She looked up. “And I... ah, I like you too. I am very glad to call you mistress.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s so sweet,” Anora said, and she smiled, before reminding herself that Erlina was the enemy. She set her face in a frown.

-o-

On the way to her room Anora was surprised to see a light from the study. She opened the door and saw her father hunched over a map on his desk, clutching a well-worn quill, a small lantern perched on the shelf behind him. She had not realized he was back in Denerim.

Anora put a fist to her hip. “You know, you really should be in bed,” she chided. “It’s very late.” Her father looked up, and she saw dark circles under his eyes. He never took proper care of himself. “What couldn’t possibly wait till morning?”

Loghain glowered at her. “Last I checked _I_ was the parent here,” he grumbled. She scowled at him, and he sighed. “If you must know, I commissioned a new map for the state room, and I‘m checking it for errors.” He scratched at the map with his quill. “Damn cartographers can’t seem to decide if it’s ‘Korcari’ or ‘Kocari.’”

Anora shook her head, then moved to stand behind him, holding her candle over his shoulder as she inspected the map with him. She took note of the elongated bannorn and the undistorted line of the southern coast. 

“I see it’s a Carastes projection,” she said reverently.

Loghain looked up at her. “There’s a little brown on your nose, there,” he said, and he touched his own nose. But he smiled as he did it.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” Anora called, and then Erlina pushed her way into the study. 

“My lady, I was on my way to bed, but I wanted to check eef you needed anyzhing furzher from me.” Erlina noticed Loghain then, and her dark eyes widened. “Ah, I did not realize you were not alone! You must be zhe Teyrn.” She curtsied low. “I am Erlina, eet iz my pleasure to finally meet you, your Grace.”

Loghain stared at her, then Anora. His brow creased, and Anora swallowed. “Thank you, Erlina, that will be all,” she said. Erlina curtsied again and then left. Loghain watched the door close behind her, then turned back to his daughter.

“Anora,” he said slowly. “Why is there an Orlesian in my house?”

Anora bit her lip. “Erlina is my handmaiden,” she explained.

“Really.” Her father was giving her a look of scowling disapproval. “Anora, when I said you could hire new domestics, I expected they would _be_ domestic. Whatever possessed you to hire an Orlesian handmaiden?”

“You don’t understand,” Anora tried. “Erlina is a bard.”

“ _What?_ ” Loghain’s quill snapped in his hand. He looked down at it, sighed, and then put it aside. He looked back at Anora. “Child, I lost six hundred men to a bard at West Hills. The Great Game is not actually as playful as it sounds.”

Anora huffed. “I _know_ that, father, and I am _not_ a child.” She steeled herself, and put on her best look of determination. “I do have a plan, you know.” She arched a brow. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, isn’t that what you said?”

Loghain grunted. “That was... falsely attributed,” he said, but a smile was tugging at the corner of his lips again. Anora saw her opening.

“Father, if I am to be entrusted with the future of this country, you must learn to trust me at least with the running of this house.” Anora lifted her chin. “I know what I’m doing.”

Loghain considered this, and then after a moment he blew out a breath. “ _Fine_ ,” he said. “Just don’t let her near my garderobe. I don’t want it to smell like old cheese.”

“I... what?” Anora stared at him, and then shook her head. She decided she really didn’t want to know. “There’s nothing to worry about, father,” she told him. “From now on, I won’t let that bard out of my sight.”

-o-

Anora kept good on her promise. She followed Erlina everywhere, but she quickly discovered that the life of a bard pretending to be a handmaiden was actually very similar to the life of a regular handmaiden. She spent a lot of time cleaning, and doing laundry, and many other things having nothing to do with international intrigue.

Apparently, espionage was rather boring.

Anora sat at her desk, ostensibly writing a letter, but secretly watching as Erlina meticulously dusted every inch of her bedroom. She wondered how anyone could perform such a dreary task, at such length, least of all someone who might have entertained clerics and kings. She tapped her pencil against the paper.

“You’ve already dusted that spot,” she said.

Erlina froze. “I am sorry,” she said. She put down her duster and turned to her. “To be honest, I feel a little odd with you watching me all zhe time. I don’t really know what you want me to do.”

Anora leaned back in her chair. “Why don’t you sing something? Orlesian music is very fashionable now, you know.”

Erlina began to fidget. “I will if it pleases you, my lady, but, ah...” She frowned. “I am not a very good singer.”

Anora raised a skeptical brow. “Don’t you all know how to sing? Isn’t that sort of your _thing?_ ”

“All of who?” Erlina asked. “All elves? All Orlesians? I am not sure...”

“Oh stop!” Anora threw up her hands. “This is very tiresome, Erlina.... if that is your _real name_. I know you’re a bard, and you know that I know, so why don’t you give up the pretense and sing me one of your fabulous Orlesian ditties.” She slumped in her chair. “At least it would be more amusing than watching you dust all day.”

“I don’t...” Erlina managed to look genuinely flummoxed. “There has been some mistake, my lady. I am not a bard.”

“Of course you aren’t a bard.” Anora sighed dramatically. “You’re a simple Orlesian peasant who just happens to be in the employ of one of the Empire’s most feared opponents.” Erlina nodded earnestly, and Anora looked up at the ceiling. “Fine. I believe you. I still want you to sing.”

Erlina swallowed. “As you please, my lady,” she said. Then she closed her eyes, and sound like a mouse being mawled by a hyena escaped her mouth.

Anora winced. Either there really were bards who couldn’t sing, or this one was very, _very_ good at pretending. Erlina plodded on through notes no man was ever meant to hear, singing a song about love, or heroism, or some such nonsense. Anora could not really bear to follow it. She leaned forward on her desk and very carefully pushed her fingers into her ears.

Suddenly the bedroom door came crashing open. Anora gasped and jumped to her feet, while Erlina squeaked to merciful silence. Out of nowhere, Prince Cailan came charging in with his sword drawn. 

“Hark! I fear a dying griffon is attacking the cast... oh, hi Anora.” Anora crossed her arms and scowled at him. He looked around, saw no fell beasts, and reluctantly sheathed his sword. He was in shirtsleeves, and Anora noticed that his arms were much more muscular than the last time she’d seen him. She tried not to be impressed.

“Cailan, it’s not a griffon. It’s never a griffon.” Just a singularly untalented bard. Anora sighed, then crossed the room to him and offered her cheek. His lips brushed her skin. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is Maric here too?”

Cailan nodded. “Mmm. He’s in the guest room, with your father. Talking.” Cailan made quotation marks in the air over the last word, and Anora grimaced. Loghain and Maric did an awful lot of “talking” whenever they were both in Denerim. Erlina cleared her throat, and Cailan noticed her for the first time. He stood straighter. “Ah ha! Who’s the new skirt, Anora?”

Anora waved her hand. “Oh, Cailan, this is my handmaiden, Erlina. Erlina, Cailan.” Erlina dropped a curtsy, and Anora gave Cailan a warning look. “Be careful what you say to her,” she cautioned. “She’s a _bard_.”

Erlina held up a small hand. “Ah, I am not, actually...”

Cailan’s face brightened. “A bard, eh? Ah, _l'affaire se corse!_ ” He turned to Erlina, and took a step towards her. “Hey, how many Orlesians does it take to screw on a lampshade?”

Erlina seemed startled to be addressed so informally,and she blushed a pleasing shade of pink. Cailan stole the moment. He caught her hand and kissed it, then held it above her head. “One,” he said. “She holds up the lampshade,” and he twirled her around, “and the world revolves around her.”

Erlina stopped spinning and caught herself. She smiled faintly. “Very droll, your Highness.”

Anora huffed. Seeing Cailan play his games with Erlina was more annoying than usual, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. “Please stop harassing my girl, Cailan,” she snapped. “She isn’t interested.” Anora crossed her arms, and Cailan let go of Erlina. Anora cocked a brow. “Why don’t you go down to the docks? I hear Rivainis aren’t at all particular.”

Cailan grinned. “Thanks, but I prefer to stay closer to home.” 

He reached out to tickle her, in that spot just below her ribs that he knew she hated. Anora swatted his hand. Cailan looked wounded for a moment, but he hid it quickly. Then with a rakish nod to Erlina, he backed away and took his leave. 

The door closed behind him. After a moment Erlina turned to her. “So that was Cailan,” she said.

“Yes.” Anora chewed her lip. “Our future king. Terrifying, isn’t it?”

Erlina giggled, before she could stop herself. It was a much prettier sound than her singing, and Anora found herself laughing too. Then Erlina turned away and returned to her damnable duster. Anora wilted. If she had to spend another day watching her dust, she was going to die of boredom.

A thought struck her. “Ooh, why don’t we go spy on Cailan?” she suggested. “That’s something bards do, isn’t it?” Anora thought that might be amusing. If nothing else, it would give her new material with which to tease him. She grinned at Erlina. “I’m sure Celene would be interested in the goings-on of the crown Prince.”

Erlina sighed. “Still not a bard, my lady.”

Anora rolled her eyes. “Fine, be that way,” she sulked. She threw herself back down into her chair.

-o-

Before the week was up Loghain was gone again, off to investigate an incident with some Antivan traders at Brandel’s Reach. He left for the docks in the early morning. Anora took her vow to watch Erlina very seriously, but she still wished she could have seen him off. Every time she passed by a window she stopped to look out across the water for his ship. At the third window Erlina went to her side.

“Where does he go zhis time?” Erlina asked.

Anora should not have been surprised that Erlina noticed her distress; she was a bard, after all. “It’s classified,” she said, biting her lip. The Antivans were a tricky people. She hoped he would not be gone long.

“It must be hard to say good-bye so often to your father,” Erlina said.

“He is not only my father, he is an important man.” Anora sighed. “I do worry, though,” she admitted. “I asked him to bring me along, but he said it was too dangerous. He still thinks of me as a child.” 

Which was unfair, Anora thought; Celene was no older than her, and yet the other woman was ruling an Empire while Anora was staring wistfully through windows. She crossed her arms and pulled her eyes away from the sea.

Erlina was giving her a soft, almost pitying look. “I am sure he will be fine,” she said. Anora looked at her, and she smiled. “But it is much too lovely to spend all day alone in zhis house. Why don’t you call on some friends?”

“Because I don’t really have any friends”. Erlina’s eyes grew even more piteous, and Anora huffed. “Well, who would I be friends with, anyway?” she asked. “Elissa? Habren? Please. The other nobles are all very tiresome.” And anyway they all thought she was too common. Anora imagined they were jealous of her future position.

“You must be very lonely.” Anora did not really like when Erlina was so perceptive. She scowled, and the elf spread her hands. “You do have one friend, zhough.”

It took Anora a moment to realize that Erlina meant herself. “You’re not my friend,” she said. “You’re my servant. And you... you’re a commoner, an elf. You’re Orlesian.” And a _bard_ , she thought, but she didn’t say it.

Erlina laughed. “And you are a very strange and spoiled young lady,” she said. “Yet still I am fond of you, for some reason.” The elf seemed sincere, which was surprising, and very interesting. Erlina tilted her head. “Would you like to visit zhe market? I have heerd the merchant Liselle has new perfumes and lace from Val Royeaux.”

Anora gave Erlina a sly look. “I’m not terribly fond of perfume or lace,” she said. “But If you really want to cheer me up, I’d much rather visit the Palace. Incognito, _n’est ce pas?_ ”

“Your Grace...” 

“ _Please_.” Anora caught Erlina by the wrist and let her eyes go wide. “Cailan and Maric are both in residence today. Between the two of us we could probably discover a thrilling state secret, or at least a minor scandal of some kind.”

Erlina opened her mouth to protest, to declare once again that she was not a spy, but Anora’s lower lip began to tremble, just so. It was a trick she’d learned when she was eight, to great effect with her father and others, and the elf was not immune. Erlina hesitated, and so Anora bit her lip. A trace of tears glittered in her eyes. 

After a moment, Erlina closed her mouth and sighed. “Very well,” she said. “I might know a girl who works in zhe kitchen. But-” she leveled a slim finger at Anora, “zhis proves nozhing. I am not a bard, my Lady.”

“As you say,” Anora said, with a knowing nod. She clapped her hands together in delight.

-o-

They entered the palace in a very pedestrian way: through the back door. Erlina gave Anora a peaked cap and a dull brown dress to blend in, and after the elf made her introductions to a freckled girl in a dirty apron, nobody asked any questions. They were assumed to be members of the palace staff.

Maric’s security left something to be desired, Anora thought. Erlina handed her a broom while she took up a duster, and Anora began to idly sweep the smooth stone floors that would one day be her own. Some of the tiles were chipped, she noted. She would have to talk to someone about that.

“—if something happens to you? I’m not ready to be King.” Anora heard Cailan’s voice, and she met Erlina’s eyes. 

“That’s Cailan,” Anora whispered. “I think he’s in his room. What should we do?”

“I don’t know, is zhere a door we could stand near?” Anora nodded. She might have thought of that herself. Being a bard was not very complicated, it turned out. They tiptoed to the door and pressed their ears to it. 

“—been King for almost twenty years and I can tell you there really isn’t much too it.” Anora recognized the lilting voice of King Maric. She mouthed his name to Erlina, who nodded acknowledgement. “Most of the time you just stand around and look pretty while people throw roses and such at you. If you’re lucky nobody throws any fruit or tomatoes.”

“But what if there’s a crisis? A calamity? Some great war like in the tales?” Cailan asked. 

“Don’t be silly. That’s why we have Loghain.” Maric paused. “What’s this all about, really? You’ve never worried about these things before.”

“Because I’m grown now,” Cailan said. “And you’re _old_. I could be King any day, and then I would have to rule the country, and balance budgets, and... and get _married_.” He blew out a breath. “I saw Anora yesterday. I don’t think she even likes me.”

Anora started at the sound of her own name. She looked at Erlina, who nodded and pressed a finger to her lips. Anora leaned closer to the door.

“Son, you are old enough to know that a King’s marriage is not about love.”

“But I _do_ love her,” Cailan said. Anora was surprised to hear him use those words. “I’ve known her my whole life, she’s my best friend. We destroyed a wine cellar together once, you know, that _means_ something. And she’s so beautiful, and clever, and lately I can’t stop thinking about her breasts.” Anora frowned at this, and Cailan added, “I’m very confused by all these feelings, father.”

“Oh.” Maric coughed. “Well, that makes two of us,” he said, and he clapped Cailan on the back. “I have to go, Cailan. Be careful not to break anything while I’m gone?”

Cailan sighed. “Yes, father.”

Anora heard footsteps as Maric walked towards the door. She scrambled out of the way, then tugged her cap down over her face and picked up her broom. Beside her Erlina began to dust furiously. Anora knelt into a low curtsy when he passed, and the king strode by without noticing them.

When he was gone, Erlina nudged her in the ribs with her elbow. “You should talk to Cailan,” she whispered. She nodded at the door. “He cares very much for you.”

Anora realized that this was true, and it made her feel very strange. She told herself it was foolishness. Maric was right: a King’s marriage was not about love. Although she could hardly fault his taste, she allowed. And the incident with the wine cellar had been amusing. It was rather charming that he’d remembered it. Anora shook her head quickly. 

“I’d sooner eat snakes,” she said. “Quick, let’s get out of here before—”

“Anora?” She wheeled around to see Cailan, standing in his doorway and staring at her. “What are you doing here?” He glanced her over. “In an apron. With a broom.” At this point he noticed Erlina. “And your bard. Anora, are you spying on me?”

“What? No.” Anora swallowed. “Of course not. But if I were, I would tell you that you needn’t worry about ruling the country, because I will be doing all of that. I rather like balancing budgets. Also please stop thinking about my breasts.”

His eyes lit up. “You _were_ spying on me.” Anora winced. Another man might have been upset, but Cailan only grinned. “I didn’t know you cared,” he said. Then he caught her by the arm and pulled her into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft against hers, and the arm he wrapped around her waist was unexpectedly compelling, but it was too much for Anora to admit that she liked it, so she pulled away and slapped him instead. “Cailan, what are you doing?”

His face reddened where she’d struck him. “I... I don’t know,” he said. He rubbed his cheek. “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“Well, don’t do it again. I’m not one of your floozies.” His face fell, and Anora sighed. Then she took his chin in her hands and kissed him on her own terms. His mouth melted against hers. She felt light-headed, and daring, and older somehow. She never imagined kissing him would be like that. Anora drew back. 

“Or at least ask first,” she amended quietly. “And not in public.”

Cailan blinked, and then nodded and wiped his mouth. Anora clutched her broom to her chest. “I’m going now,” she said, and she gathered her skirt. “Good evening, your Highness. Come, Erlina.”

Erlina dropped a hasty curtsy. “Your Highness,” she mumbled. Anora spun around and retreated down the hall, and Erlina followed after her. 

Her heart was racing. When they were safely away Anora stopped and leaned against a wall, and she looked at Erlina. Her handmaiden returned her gaze solemnly, and Anora bit her lip. Then they both began to giggle uncontrollably.

“So how did you enjoy your espionage, my Lady?” Erlina asked, when she’d caught her breath again. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Was it most informative?”

“Yes, I suppose it was.” Thought it was still very foolish, it was nice to know that Cailan thought of her sometimes. And now, with Erlina, she felt less alone. Anora reached out and squeezed the elf’s hand. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before,” she said. “Thank you.”

Erlina smiled. “You are most welcome, my lady,” she said. “Perhaps we shall make a habit of it? I must say it was amusing.”

Anora nodded and released Erlina’s hand. Then a thought struck her. “Oh dear, you aren't going to tell Celene about this are you?”

Erlina smiled mischievously. “I should,” she said. “I am sure her Eminent Majesty would be thrilled to hear of your romantic escapades.” Anora’s jaw dropped, and Erlina said quickly, “Eet is a joke, of course, I kid! I promise I am not a spy!” 

Anora laughed. "Fine, you’ve convinced me," she said. But inside she knew better. This never would have happened if Erlina were a simple elven servant. Anora smiled to herself. She was fast friends with a bard.

-o-


End file.
